Should Oxford to her fifter Cambridge join A year's rack-rent, and arbitrary fine, Thence not one winter's charge would be defray'd The players are the world, the world the stage, Of any party, ministers of state: I'm for an Act, that he, who fev'n whole years 300 305 O DE ON THE DEATH OF MATZEL, A FAVOURITE BULL-FINCH, Address'd to Mr. St-pe, to whom the author had given the reverfion of it when he left Drefden. BY SIR CHARLES HANBURY WILLIAMS, K.B.* *I. TRY not, my Ste, 'tis in vain Or check your honest rage; Lies murder'd in his cage. 5 Matzel's no more, ye graces, loves, Ye linnets, nightingales and doves, Let ev'ry forrow be exprest, Beat with your wings each mournful breast, And drop the natʼral tear. III. In height of fong, in beauty's pride, By fell Grimalkin's claws he died But vengeance fhall have way: On pains and tortures I'll refine; Yet, Matzell, that one death of thine His nine will ill repay. IV. 10 15 For thee, my bird, the facred Nine, Who lov'd thy tuneful notes, shall join 20 In thy funereal verse : My painful task shall be to write Th' eternal dirge which they indite, VI. There shall thy notes in cyprefs grove And foften Dido's pain. VII. Till Proferpine by chance fhall hear And love thee with my love; And all his fongs approve. AN ODE ON MISS HARRIET HANBURY, AT SIX YEARS OLD. BY THE SAME. I. WHY fhou'd I thus employ my time, 35 40 Why should I fearch my brains for rhyme, II. Their' pow'r as yet is all in vain, Thy num'rous charms and various graces: They only serve to banish pain, And light up joy in parents' faces. III. But foon thofe eyes their ftrength fhall feel: 5 Those charms their pow'rful fway shall find: 10 Youth fhall in crowds before you kneel, And own your empire o'er mankind. IV. Then, when on Beauty's throne you fit, And thoufands court your wifh'd-for arms, 15 My mufe fhall ftretch her utmost wit, V. Charms that in time fhall ne'er be loft, And future Hanburys fhall boaft, Of verfe like mine, of charms like yours. 20 VI. A little vain we both may be, Since fcarce another house can fhew A poet, that can fing like me; A beauty, that can charm like you, |